


Trust Fall

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x wakatoshi ushijima]An intersection. A fall. Even the greatest eagles plummet from the sky and when they do, they need somebody to catch them before they land.





	1. 1; An Intersection.

* * *

 

“I’ll be going ahead,” Ushijima told his running partner Tendou, who nodded wordlessly, earbud cords jumping in time with his footsteps. The spiky haired boy hummed to himself as he jogged. It was a regular occurrence to split up and the middle blocker didn’t even bother to comment anymore. Behind him, Goshiki let out a small groan of disappointed defeat, which Ushijima ignored dutifully. He picked up the pace and weaved through the other members of Shiratorizawa’s boy’s volleyball club until he was the pack leader, and even then he continued applying speed until he rounded the corner, left utterly alone in the dead streets of the retired residential area. Not a word was spoken. No breaths of life were taken. It was just him and the concrete, each step reverberating through the Earth as if it might alter the course of its path in time.

Being alone was when he could think best. The chatter of his teammates was distracting and when he wasn’t bound by their limitations, he felt as if he were the freest. Normally he would have kept an average pace as not to burn stamina but today, he pushed it, the burnt taste of rust in his throat accompanying the white fire in his legs. Wind whipped his hair and rushed in his ears. The pain eased his heart’s pain and he continued to run. His coaches would be angry but he didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Emptiness swirled in his skull like smoke in a glass bowl.

There weren’t many people out and about in the evening hours on a school night. Most of the population were elderly or from Shiratorizawa’s vast student body, so he could usually complete the full 2k without coming across anybody at all. All the better. He didn’t want to see anybody when he was in this sorry state of mind. His eyes flitted up to the sky, streaky clouds lining the canvas of summer sky. Pink punctured the horizon and the faint glimmers of powdered stars were sprinkled across the distant navy. Slowly, the sun was being extinguished, huffed out until nothing but darkness remained. As he was distracted his foot fell at an awkward angle on the curb and he grit his teeth as his ankle gave sharply. But he continued to run, absorbing the physical ache and ignoring it. It was a mantra in his head: all the better, all the better, _I deserve this_ …

He slowed when he came to the intersection. His breath was harsh and his pulse was rough, splashing splotches of the void across his vision. Despite the exhaustion he could still feel, and suddenly he felt somebody looking, an intangible sense of unease and despair on his neck and back and spine. As if somebody had whispered his name he turned, looking to the side. A girl stood. She must have also been looking to cross the street, her eyes turned forwards across the small two-lane road. In that heavy gaze he saw no life. It was disconcerting. As if two mismatched stones had been placed inside her head; or maybe, he was seeing it wrong and she _was_ alive, _full_ of life, where her eyes were fixed to some unseen truth and showing the patches and edges of the unknown and _that_ was why they looked so deep and endless. He decided it’d be better to ignore her and looked up at the orange-red hand. He was about to take a step onto the road before the girl spoke up, startling him.

“I wouldn’t do that. It’s illegal.”

He looked over at you closely this time, his eyes catching on your features. You were smiling faintly, your lips curved upwards like a crescent moon. The eternity in your blank stare had faded and you looked… well, you looked normal, with the setting sun sparkling off of your eyes.

“There aren’t any cars,” he noted flatly, speaking through heavy breaths. He told the truth. The only hint of a vehicle was a neglected bicycle that leant sadly against a lamppost. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple but he didn’t bother to wipe it away, looking back to the glowing red hand. Still, it would be too awkward to jaywalk after being noticed, so he waited alongside you.

“Shiratorizawa?” you asked, startling him. People didn’t usually try to talk to him twice when he disregarded them. He wondered how you knew before remembering that his jacket quite literally spelled it out and nodded once.

“Yes.”

“Me too. Third year, actually.”

“…I as well.”

Where were you going with this conversation? Ushijima found no point to it, no end, as if it were a circle of meandering pleasantries. But you were still studying him as if you had more to say. Your scrutinizing gaze felt like it was burning his already hot skin. He felt too warm. There was a blanket of uncomfortable heat following your stare that sweltered him, shooting pinpricks of exhaustion and fever and sweat throughout his body. He felt like you were undressing him with those eyes. Not in some sort of perverted fashion, but in a way that made him feel violated; like you were rummaging through his wallet and turning his pockets inside out without once moving yourself. Suddenly annoyed, he looked at you pointedly.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked bad-temperedly.

“Well, um… what’s your name?”

His irritation shattered and evolved into confusion. After making into onto the national U-19 team he did not have much difficulty being recognized, especially by other Shiratorizawa students. If that wasn’t strange enough, he hadn’t the faintest idea of who you were, and you were asking him for his name like there was meant to be a casual conversation. He probably wouldn’t even see you once after this. Still, he found no harm in talking to you and decided that he might as well humour you this once.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” he replied a bit hesitantly. “And yours?”

“[Surname] [Name].” A gust of cool wind blew, ruffling hairs on his head and cooling his sweaty skin. You reached up and pulled your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” he responded again, feeling strange. This conversation was much too graceless. With such heavy thoughts on his mind, he didn’t have time to talk with strange girls on intersection corners. You were silent as well. Two types of silence screamed on this corner of an intersection. From you, you seemed to be deep in twisting thought, but for him he could only sum up his silence to be that of tense apprehension. He turned back to the light and saw, with immense relief, for it to be the white walking man. He was about to take off again before his eyes drifted back to you. You made no move to walk either, your gaze still turned to him.

When he met your eyes, the sun dipped behind a building as if to hide its cowardly self from any coming confrontation. Yet even without those slanting rays, your face seemed to glow, from within with some ethereal electric light. It was not like the colourless industrial lights of modern day nor the aggressive licks of flame, but rather that of a gentle orange reading lamp. Looking at you, he suddenly remembered the books he would read as a child, shut up in his room to ignore the outside world and instead exploring the worlds of magic and dragons and _peace of mind_ …

“I’ll be going, then,” he stated abruptly, shutting out the memories of happier halcyon days. Looking at your face, he suddenly saw himself, reflected upon your unlike features as if you had become some sort of still water lake. On that surface he could see his innermost thoughts, his memories, his everything that he didn’t want to see. But soon, ripples broke the surface and you pressed your lips together. The image of himself dissipated.

“Wait…” His dread grew again with those words, pounding in his burning bloodstream. His body was dividing itself into that of curiosity—what did you have to say, dammit?—and fear—he should be leaving. In the end you made the decision for him, looking to sigh heavily. “Can I ask you something, first?”

An unsettling flash of anxiety fluttered his heart. “Yes.”

“Are you… okay?”

“Excuse me?” He had nothing better to say than that. He had no idea what you meant. Suddenly, you were really starting to irritate him. You asked him questions that he didn’t know the answer to, but still, your face made it seem like _you_ knew. There was nothing outstanding about you. Your features were average and you could’ve been any other girl in the world. He didn’t even remember your name. But your large eyes were unnerving and he swallowed thickly as you continued.

“You look… I don’t know. You just look sad, Ushijima-san. So. Are you okay?”

His eyes widened. _You knew_. But how? How could you, if you hadn’t even known his face before this moment? The others hadn’t known, but yet…

You knew.

“I always look like this,” he said slowly, adding, “and I’m in good health. So yes, I’m fine.”

“Then are you _always_ so sad?” You pursed your lips, frowning slightly. You made no move to come closer, but your gaze penetrated him so deeply that he took a step back. “I—”

“I’m going to take my leave,” he interjected. “Have a good day.” The salutation had melted into a meaningless conglomerate of words. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t even know what a good day meant anymore.

He left quickly before he could hear anything else from you. His heart pounded uncontrollably, pressing uncomfortably against his ribcage. He wasn’t tired from exertion but rather he was afraid. It had been long since Ushijima had felt fear and he didn’t like it. He felt as if the world were caging in on him, trapping him, squeezing him in its iron fist, playing with him to see how far he could go before he would burst—

He looked back sharply to see you still standing at the intersection, the hand out of your hair, allowing it to flap wildly around your face. He couldn’t see your expression at this distance, but suddenly, he remembered everything about your face. Even though there was nothing exceptional, he suddenly could not forget the slight redness on your lips, nor the exact hue of your irises. Every imperfection of yours had now been stamped across his retinas. In that moment he hated you. From him you had stolen his false sense of security, his mask, and you had kept it on the other side of the road and you would not give it back. And now he was naked and exposed and—

Turning away, he continued to run, faster and faster; whether he was running from that look or from his own problems, he didn’t know.


	2. 2; A Re-Encounter.

“Wakatoshi, you hear? There’s going to be a team of trainers coming to our team.”

Ushijima sniffled in response, not having heard. Ushijima didn’t keep up with the social networks that well. With the school year just booting up, things had been busy with sports and academics, and he had even less time to worry about gossip dynamics. Tendou continued (without his input, as always). The red-haired boy pulled his gym shirt over his head as he spoke chirpily.

“They’re supposed to help us with taping and working out and stuff. And I hear they’re mostly chicks, which is sweet, because it creeps me out when a guy tapes my fingers for me. You feel?”

“I don’t mind when another male tapes my hand,” Ushijima replied disinterestedly. Tendou sighed exaggeratedly.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t prefer a cute girl to do it for you?”

“I only want a person who is most competent. Whether they are male or female has no effect on their skill.”

“God, you’re a tightass. Well, we love you anyways. See you in the gym!” Tendou clapped Ushijima on the shoulder and started to hum another song from one of his animes, heading out of the expansive change room. Ushijima took his time, lacing his gym shoes carefully and folding his clothes in his locker so that they wouldn’t wrinkle. When he entered the gym, he was the last, and the rest of the team was already lined up and listening to the coach lecture.

“…fair, and with respect. They’re here to help us. Got it?”

“Yes, coach!”

Ushijima looked over the heads of the shorter boys, wondering what they were looking at. A group of ten or twelve girls with a few boys stood shoulder to shoulder in their own gym clothes, but they had large duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Ushijima put two and two together and assumed they were the trainers. His eyes glided over their faces, not much sparking his attention until they landed on yours. His eyes widened with familiarity.

“Katsura A-Airi! I hope to serve you well!” A small brown haired girl bowed frantically.

“Okita Rei. I hope to serve you well.” A girl with jet-black hair pulled into a severe ponytail bowed and rose. 

“Sakamoto Akito. I hope to serve you well!” A cheery looking guy with messy dark hair saluted at them.

“[Surname] [Name],” you introduced in that distinctive voice, the one like you knew something about him that he didn’t. Your gaze moved to meet his and you blinked once. 

“I hope to serve you well,” you said to him quietly, a cryptic smile on your lips.

\---

“Ushijima-san?”

He looked up at the sound of his name and saw you standing in front of him. Your hair had been clipped away from your face today and you were out of the school uniform, wearing a plain white shirt with SHIRATORIZAWA printed across its breast as well as black training shorts. You held a towel out to him and he accepted it with some hesitation.

“Thank you.”

“How are you?” you asked pleasantly. His suspicion made his eyes narrow but he decided to err on the side of polite caution.

“Of good health. And you?”

“I wasn’t talking about your health.”

Again, there it was. You struck him with precision and he looked up at you, feeling unfairly scrutinised and naked under your piercing eyes.

“Why are you asking?” he asked in a low rumble. You pursed your lips and then shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just… I guess I wanted to check up on you and make sure you were all right. You look like you’re going through some tough times. If you want, you can talk to me about it.”

“I don’t know who you are,” he said bluntly. You blinked, not expecting an answer like that, before nodding with an awkward smile.

“Yeah, I guess we are strangers. I’m sorry if it seemed like I’m intruding. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Okay?”

“…I don’t trust you,” he admitted at last, deciding that he might as well be straightforwards with it. Your eyes widened somewhat with surprise but you smiled wryly.

“I guess not. But that’s okay. I’ll be here when you do.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked confrontationally.

“Then I’ll still be here. I’ll see you around, Ushijima-san.” You left with that hanging in the air, your hair swinging behind you. Ushijima’s heart felt uncomfortably tight against his chest and he worried that something might actually be wrong with him—when he relayed this concern to Tendou, Semi, and Ohira, they merely smirked at each other.

“You have a crush on the trainer already, Wakatoshi?” Ohira asked playfully. 

“A crush?” Ushijima repeated in disbelief. “No. She just makes me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfy in a _good_ way?” Tendou added, throwing an arm around the taller boy’s shoulders. “This is the first time you’ve shown any interest in a girl who wasn’t a volleyball player! I’m so proud—Reon, it’s like our boy is growing up!” Tendou pretended to cry and Ushijima shrugged him off disgruntledly.

“I’m not showing interest. I’m merely concerned about my health,” he tried to explain. 

“It sounds like she’s concerned about your health, too. You shouldn’t be so rude to her,” Semi chided light-heartedly. “She’s cute. You should be nicer.”

“You should ask her out! Wouldn’t that be rich?” Tendou laughed. “Hey, Wakatoshi! If you hurt yourself, you should ask her to tape you back together.”

“That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t hurt myself intentionally.”

“Accidents happen,” Tendou sang. Ohira clipped him on the back of the head, earning a yelp.

“Don’t jinx our ace, Satori. Come on, we’re doing spiking drills.”

Ushijima let his fellow teammates move forwards first, lingering behind. He turned around and saw with some relief that you were talking to Goshiki, not looking at him. You were rotating your wrist to show the first-year something. He watched as you spoke emphatically, smiling when Goshiki nodded with understanding. You looked like an entirely different person when you smiled. Less like some fearful omniscient deity and more like an average high school girl. Suddenly you glanced over at him as if sensing his gaze and cocked your head. He turned away quickly and jogged off.

This time, he did not forget your name.


	3. 3; An Injury.

“Told you so.”

Ushijima scowled with slight annoyance as Tendou clapped him on the lower back reassuringly. On the other side of the net, Goshiki bowed low, his apology coming out with a highly strained shout.

“I’m so sorry, Ushijima-san!”

“It’s not your fault. That was a good straight. I merely landed poorly.” Ushijima waved off the fretting dark-haired junior who was still grinding his teeth together with a guilty expression. His ankle had been hurting since yesterday and he’d probably made it worse by rolling it. Ushijima walked over to the bench and sat, gingerly testing his ankle. The familiar dull ache of injury wrapped around his joint and he knew that he had to get it stabilized with some tape. Which meant that…

“Ushijima-san? Please let me take a look at that.”

Of course. Out of the fifteen trainers applied to the Boy’s Volleyball Club, it had to be _you_. He didn’t even look up at the sound of your voice, concentrating on nursing his foot gingerly instead. Why _did_ he think of you with such contempt? He hadn’t even known you for longer than a grand total of three hours, and already, the idea of you got under his skin like a parasitical infection of the mind.

“Ushijima.” The honourific was dropped and your hesitant tone became severe. “Please.”

He sighed and turned his head up, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. He hadn’t had to look up at somebody in ages, but already, he felt crushed underneath your gaze. You ignored the derisive glare, sitting on the floor in front of him, and held your hands out expectantly. He eyed them warily. Finally, you sighed with something like defeat and lowered your hands, meeting his gaze.

“Do you have an issue with me?” you asked testily. He hadn’t been expecting that question—he certainly should have, with how he’d been treating you, but he didn’t have a response queued up for such direct confrontation like that.

“No,” he replied stiffly.

“Then you won’t have an issue with me taping your foot. Where does it hurt?”

 _Where does it hurt…? Everywhere._ The surprise of the question he had been dreading stunned him into silence and he merely stared openly at you. His heart rate spiked and the blood rushed to his ears.

“Ushijima-san?” You sighed with his lack of response and pointed at your own ankle. “Let me guess. You landed on it while it was in inversion, like this, and now it hurts to put weight on it. Right?”

“Yeah,” he muttered shortly. You were correct in your diagnosis, and a cold wave of relief washed over him when he realized you weren’t asking about his mental state. He still didn’t like the idea of you touching him but decided that since it was for his own sake, he might as well suck it up. He took off his shoe and sock, allowing you to take the roll of tape in your hand and begin to lay down anchors. He flinched when your fingers brushed past the bare skin of his leg. 

“How much does it hurt on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst?” you asked calmly. Your voice seemed to soothe some of his apprehension and his shoulders became less tense. 

“…a four.”

“Okay. I’ll skip most of the re-anchoring so you still have maximum mobility. Can you move your foot at all?”

He hesitated but decided that he’d go along with it, and obeyed your order. The only real pain was a faint ache and he’d had worse. 

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt when I move it for you?” Suddenly you took hold of his foot and gently moved it inwards. There was a paralyzing shock of feeling your small fingers on skin so closely, your fingernails gently running atop his skin—he forgot to reply, and you raised an eyebrow. “Ushijima-san?”

“No,” he said hastily, looking away. “It doesn’t.”

“Okay.” You let go and he found that the comfort of warmth dissipated. You leant back to grab another roll of tape and he took the opportunity to look at you. You weren’t any different than the other girls. In fact, you were the most average a person could get. You turned back around and he met your eyes for a split second before looking away. You _were_ different, somehow. A part of him knew. _He_ didn’t know, but some part of his brain could tell that you were not like the others.

“I’m sure you want to get back to play soon, so I won’t make you ice it. But you should come back to me when practice ends so I can make sure there isn’t that much swelling. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed quietly. He took his foot back away from you and turned it over as best as he could, checking the tape. It was pristine and clean, unlike the hasty lines he had done for himself on several occasions. “You’re good at this,” he noted aloud, unaware that he’d said it until you let out a small laugh.

“What?” he asked as he put on his shoes, looking back over at you. You suppressed the laugh with a tight-lipped smile. He didn’t think he’d seen you laugh like that before. You looked kind of cute.

“I didn’t think you were one to give compliments. No offense.”

“None taken…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat before biting the bullet with a deep breath. “It’s my fault. I’ve been treating you unfairly. My apologies.”

“You don’t have to be so formal with me. You’re seventeen, aren’t you?”

“Eighteen,” he corrected. 

“Jeez, you sound like you’re thirty.” You snorted to yourself with amusement before waving your hands at him. “I’m not offended or anything. Something’s on your mind, right?”

Again, you were correct in your diagnosis. But Ushijima didn’t think you had a tape job to fix a hurting heart.

“I shouldn’t have been so pushy when we don’t know each other that well. But… I hope you find somebody to talk about it with, if it’s not me.” You smiled at him again, in such a way that he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “And maybe we’ll know each other better later, and you can put your trust in me.”

“Trust in you…?” he repeated under his breath. He gave you a wary look before getting to his feet. You remained on the bench. He was about to walk back to the game before giving you a last glance, the roll of tape still in your hands as you twirled it around your fingers absentmindedly.

“Thank you,” he said shortly. “You’re good at what you do.”

“You’re good at what you do, too.” Another light grin. “I’m here to help you be the best you can be.”

Trust… he hadn’t found that yet, but for a faint inkling he nearly thought he had.


	4. 4; A Fall.

All week, Ushijima’s mood had been sour. That much was obvious. It was worse today and he shoved his phone to the bottom of his bag, hoping that the battery would die on its own so that he would no longer have to deal with _that_. The cloudy emptiness seemed to snake around his brain yet again and his thoughts were muddled; contaminated. At the very least he had volleyball practice to fall back on. He stretched his foot out, staring down at it. It felt fine today, but the faint red lines of where he’d ripped tape off too quickly still showed on his skin. You’d told him not to keep the tape on overnight and he’d listened, but some sentimental part of him had made him unable to throw away the used tape. It sat, crumpled on his desk. With a scowl he took and put it in the trash, but not before promising to himself that he would make an effort to talk to you today.

The day went on but he found that he couldn’t quite concentrate, irritation and sleep deprivation and negativity piling up on his shoulders and weighing him down. It was almost as if he was drowning and now he had gone under the water, his fingers grazing the cool touch of air as it breached the surface. Everything pressed in against him. There was no light for him. It was just going to keep pushing; keep falling; he would keep drowning like this. How had he deserved this? All he wanted… was to breathe. 

When the final bell rang he slung his bag over his shoulder and left the classroom without talking to anybody, jogging back to his room so that he could pick up his training clothes. Practice didn’t start until an hour after dismissal, but he figured he might as well work off some of the tension and put the anxiety to good use. 

After changing and making his way to the gym, he noted that you were already there, chatting with one of the other trainers. You noticed him and looked as if you wanted to say something, but thought better of it and waved. Ushijima paused and waved back. Already, the action felt strange. He watched as you resumed conversation with the other girl, looking lively as you laughed. He hadn’t seen you look that happy before. A strange flutter of pride erupted in him for being able to see it but he tore his gaze away, walking into the storage closet to wheel out the volleyballs. On his way out, he nearly ran you over.

“Hey. You’re here early,” you noted, side stepping the cart with a jump. He paused before continuing on hesitantly, nodding once.

“Yes, I wanted to do some extra training.”

“Something happen?”

He stopped moving forwards and realized he was clutching the bar of the crate so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. He relaxed his grip, pursing his lips as he thought about what to say next. As if sensing his discomfort, you pointed at his feet and changed the subject.

“Ankle okay now?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Thank you.”

“No worries. I’m glad. Anyways, if you need me, I’ll be over—”

“Can I talk to you?” he said abruptly, surprising even himself. He could feel his mental pillars crumbling and suddenly his hands were shaking when he glanced at you. He just needed a break. Some air. It didn’t matter anymore—all he wanted was somebody to catch him so he could breathe. “Outside.”

You blinked, not having expected the sudden proposal. But you were quick to nod, a confused but nonchalant expression on your face.

“Okay. What about?”

“Can…” for the first time since he could remember, Ushijima felt unsure of himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Can I trust you?” 

The words were very simple but carried the heaviness of the load on his back. He stared at you, feeling regret seep into him slowly and then quickly. But your expression was no longer frightening to him; in fact, he was drawn to you. He wanted to hear you talk. He wanted you to listen to him talk. He hadn’t felt like he could just talk to anybody because he didn’t feel like they’d understand. Of course he had his friends but… they had an image of him that he had to upkeep. He couldn’t ruin it for them like that. 

But maybe you didn’t see him that way. Maybe you could see him weak. Maybe… maybe you could pull him back up for air. 

“Yes,” you replied just as simply, the gentle look of your eyes telling an entire story behind the single syllable.

\---

“I’m not good with words,” he admitted as the two of you stood outside the gym. You sat down on the steps as he stood in front of you, feeling the mild wind in his hair.

“That’s okay. I’ll listen to whatever.”

“But first… why? Why are you just so open to hear me out? You didn’t even know who I was.” Ushijima was entirely aware of his accusative tone but he couldn’t even hold himself back. He wanted to know—he had to know how you knew what he was feeling when he didn’t even know himself.

“I don’t know,” you replied in a small voice. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the fingers. “I guess I’m just… drawn to you.”

_But your expression was no longer frightening to him; in fact, he was drawn to you._

He sat next to you and took a deep breath. And then he told you what had been on his mind.

His words were clumsy at best and he stopped often to think about what to say next. He wasn’t a gifted orator but you didn’t seem annoyed or disinterested, nodding at the right times and listening with a careful and guarded expression. It had been only a couple of days ago when his mother had started to kick up a fuss about his father—during the divorce, he hadn’t suffered much, having understood from a young age that their relationship wasn’t meant to be. Acceptance wasn’t difficult for him. But his mother took every chance to pick at his father and his father did nothing about it; was he meant to choose sides between them? He hadn’t asked for this but here it was, the discontent and the bitterness stirring up the people he loved to say things they didn’t mean—and why was he so bothered by this, when there were people younger than him, dying left and right, popping pills or having eardrums shattered from bombs and artillery shells, what right did he have to suffer, what was he doing suffering when he didn’t deserve to, but what had he done to deserve the pain, at least he had two parents but with the fighting and the hatred what had he done to deserve the pain—

“Hey, Ushijima. Wakatoshi. Shh. It’s okay.”

Despite being much smaller than him you reached up, drawing him forwards with a surprisingly strong tug so that his head jerked forwards. It fell against the crook of your neck, hiding your face from him. All he was aware of was the hands curling in his hair.

“Don’t hold it back. It just hurts more when you do,” you whispered gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he said for some reason, unsure of whether he was apologizing to you, his parents, or himself. Ushijima wasn’t one to cry but he could feel the stiffness in his jaw and a hot prickle in his eyes. “I’m—”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Just… breathe.” The words that he had been waiting to hear were soft in his ear and the support of your body brought down the wall he had been building so carefully. Your fingers curling in his hair tore down each brick and he held onto you, clutching the back of your shirt as if that might make it okay again. He felt like a child clinging onto his blanket, crying in the face of the world, asking _why are you so cruel?_ And the answer was that he didn’t _know_ why, nobody could know, but at the very least he had his blanket to fall back on—and now he had you. 

“You can trust me,” you continued quietly, your voice clear in his ear. “Nobody’s perfect and I’m okay with that. Just breathe. I’ll catch you when you fall. ”

Closing his eyes and falling backwards—who in their right mind would do that? Who in their right mind put themselves into another’s hands? People were greedy and stupid. At its most raw humanity was animalistic, savage, disgusting… who could he trust? Why should he trust? What did it mean to put faith in another human? Another soul? He was an ace, a lone Eagle, a King of the Skies; he had no right to rely on somebody to ground him. The only way to go was up. Falling was out of the question. Even so, he had never felt lower than now, he had never felt more pain—

But as his wings grazed the ground, your arms were still around him, and he felt a little more at peace. 

For the first time in a long time, he could breathe.


	5. 5; A Kiss.

“Ushijima, good luck!” You stopped him with the shout, breathing a little hard from having to catch up with him. He turned and looked down at you, nodding slightly.

“I don’t need luck,” he replied bluntly. “I’ll win anyways. But thank you for the sentiment.”

You smiled and laughed, shaking your head. You reached up and punched him in the shoulder, the glancing blow bouncing right off of him. You shook out your fist with a grimace as he blinked. You then pointed at him with a grin. “Don’t forget that I’m cheering you on from the stands!”

“Right.”

As you turned around to follow the other trainers up, Tendou snuck up beside him and cocked his head as he watched you go. He made a fast clucking noise with his tongue and looked up at Ushijima with hooded, suggestive eyes.

“What is it?” Ushijima asked flatly, not even bothering to look at his friend as they continued forwards.

“So? _So_? What is it, you two are dating now?”

“No,” Ushijima answered honestly. Tendou merely hooted once with frustration.

“But it sure looks like it, Waka-chan~! I mean, _I_ sure as hell don’t have a cute girl or guy to tell me good luck. What changed? I thought she made you ‘uncomfortable’?”

“We’re merely friends,” he stated. “Nothing has changed. I just found out that she was actually a nice person and that I was overreacting due to my own emotional state.”

“Man, you’re _so_ boring. You sound like our history prof. Can’t you say something like—” Tendou cleared his voice and lowered his voice as deep as he could to impersonate Ushijima. “I think she’s cute.”

“I don’t think she’s cute,” Ushijima said plainly. Tendou opened his mouth to complain before Ushijima added casually, “I am fully aware that she is.”

“Whoaaa! Careful, Wakatoshi! Keep talking like that and maybe _I’ll_ fall for you.” Tendou laughed jauntily as they made their way down the hall to the gymnasium. “But seriously. Are you guys going to date? Please tell me yes. It’ll be nice to be able to make fun of you about something for once. You were in a pissy mood all week, too, but after meeting her…” He made a heart with his hands and Ushijima actually rolled his eyes. 

“We’re just friends,” Ushijima replied. And that was the truth. After exposing himself to weaker than the others thought he was, the two of you had left it at that. You’d even told him about your own stresses and worries; things that he wouldn’t repeat, of course, but he felt some small sort of satisfaction with knowing that you trusted him enough to hold your secrets. And there was an immense comfort in knowing that he had somebody behind him to catch him if he fell from grace again, or whenever he needed.

“But who knows?” Ushijima mused aloud. “Maybe we’ll get to know each other better.”

“You’re _such a tease_!” Tendou groaned as they emerged into the gym. The cheers of the Shiratorizawa student body were already echoing throughout the stadium. Ushijima ignored Tendou as his golden eyes turned up to the stands, searching you out—and there you were, waving to him with both hands. You looked tiny from so far away, but suddenly you pressed both hands to your lips, pushing them outwards to him. Tendou screeched loudly.

_“Did she just blow Ushiwaka-chan a kiss?! Tsutomu, quick! Jump in front of him so you catch the kiss!”_

_“Wh-what?”_

Ushijima blocked out the ruckus, focusing entirely on you. He didn’t wave back but he nodded, and he could feel that you understood all the same. A connection like that was immeasurably invaluable and even he knew that he had just found something special. 

Maybe he _had_ already fallen. Perhaps not from grace, but into love. 

Either way, all he knew for sure was that he liked the feeling of your hands in his hair and hoped to have that again.

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/SSjBJf


End file.
